


Extremity

by yellowwarbler



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Movie: Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/pseuds/yellowwarbler
Summary: During a routine Justice League mission, the Flash accidentally travels back in time, resetting the timeline one hour. The League urges the Flash to never use that ability again. Bruce, still grappling with the fallout of what the Joker did to Tim, sees it as a way to save his son.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 100
Collections: Batfam Big Bang 2020





	Extremity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Eugenia ([stvlti](https://stvlti.tumblr.com/)) and Cai ([bisexualoftheblade](https://bisexualoftheblade.tumblr.com)) for being awesome betas! And bullyingbatman, babbilon, and lost-piero for the amazing art (linked in text - check out their stuff on tumblr!). This was written for the Batfam Big Bang.
> 
> See bullyingbatman's gorgeous cover art [here](https://bullyingbatman.tumblr.com/post/630623115836276736/day-two-of-batfam-big-bang-posting-week-todays)!

Batman didn't see the gun in time. He didn't have more than a split second to react before the Flash came barreling out of nowhere to slam his fist into the thug's face. Batman watched him hit the wall and crash clean through it--and then the wall after that as well.

The Flash stood, panting, his fist still outstretched. The gun was nowhere in sight.

Shouts and echoes of the nearby fight faded into the distance as Batman stepped through the jagged hole in the wall. He knelt down next to the man and, despite knowing well enough to read the awkward angle the man's neck twisted into, pressed two fingers to his limp wrist. "Dead," Batman announced.

Flash didn't move. He hadn't lowered his fist. Flash looked at his own hand like he didn't recognize it. "Bats," he said after a lengthy silence. Stopped.

The man wasn't a villain Batman believed necessitated that level of force, least of all from the Flash. He wasn't known for using deadly force. 

"I don't understand," Flash said, voice barely above a whisper. The sounds of the fight grew nearer. The rest of the team was catching up. Batman hoped to have answers ready for them. He hoped to have any answer at _all_.

"That makes two of us," Batman said, voice sliding closer to Bruce's, the softer tone he used for children, victims. 

"You died," Flash said. His hand dropped, and he looked at the body. "That guy. He shot you." He looked back to Batman. "I saw it. That guy killed you. You _died_."

Batman did not, in fact, die. The gun didn't go off. His mind processed the possible scenarios: fear toxin, sudden-onset psychosis, habitual drug use. Each seemed more unlikely than the last.

"After," he began, "I died, what did you do?"

"I don't know. I freaked. I just ran." Flash looked over his shoulder. "I ran really far, but I wound up here again. And I saw you."

"Not dead."

"Not dead," Flash agreed, "for a few more seconds."

A spark went off in Batman's mind, but before the pieces could connect, another one of Luthor's goons hit the ground a few feet away. Hawkgirl landed next to Flash, mace at the ready. "You started the party without me?" she asked. The grin slid off her face when she noticed the body.

The League caught up. Batman didn't have an answer.

+++++

Time travel. The answer was _time travel_.

"I didn't do it on purpose! Bats _died_ , you guys! I just... reacted. Something told me to run."

"Something?" Diana asked. She glanced at Bruce, brow furrowed, then looked at Wally. "A voice spoke to you?"

Wally's leg bounced, his fingers drumming ceaselessly on the table. "Not exactly. I just knew. It was a feeling. I knew what to do, but I didn't know _what_ it was that I was supposed to do. Make sense?" 

"Not really," Clark said. If anything, he looked more concerned. "Wally, time travel isn't a toy. I'm glad you saved Bruce, but this isn't something you should do again. And you killed a man!"

Wally shrunk in on himself, his face losing color. "I was moving too fast," he admitted. "I didn't think. I just hit him."

"We kill people sometimes. We don't do it on purpose. It's never the goal. But all of us have done it. Don't talk to him like you have the high ground here," Shayera accused. 

Clark held up his hands in surrender. "That's _not_ what I meant."

"That's sure as hell what it--"

"Let's keep this professional," Bruce interrupted. The debriefing had already run long by an hour. He needed to get home. He needed to think. "We can trust Flash to handle his own abilities. The death was unfortunate, but I agree with Hawkgirl." He didn't. Bruce's skin crawled at the idea of Flash killing, and Clark knew it as well. But that spark had ignited, the possibilities springing up in his mind in endless succession. 

"Batman is correct," J'onn said. "The ethical issue of deadly force is not one I believe we should tackle tonight. Time travel, however, poses serious risks."

"I'm not exactly itching to do it again! But you can't tell me you're not glad I did it." He threw an arm out in Bruce's direction. "I'd do it again for Bats or for any of you!"

"We know you would, Wally." Diana rested her hand on Wally's shoulder. "Your heart is not in question. We all know it to be in the right place. But to undo a death, that's the power of a god. There has to be a price, whether we're aware of it or not. I'm afraid for what it might be."

The debate wound down. Bruce left the moment the debriefing ended and walked directly to the transportation room to beam himself to the Batcave. He was late. Bruce hated being late.

When he appeared in the Batcave, he stripped out of his uniform as quickly as he could, skipping his usual shower and personal mission notations in favor of bounding up the stairs. The sound hit him the moment he swung the clock open.

Laughter, buried in a scream.

Bruce ran flat-footed to the second level, his heart hammering against the inside of his chest. That terrible screaming laughter broke off into sobs as Bruce reached the bedroom nearest to his own.

Alfred sat on the bed, his arms wrapped around Tim, rocking him back and forth. A syringe lay on the bedside table, used. Tim's face stretched into an exaggerated smile, his eyes squeezed shut, tears welling up and spilling down his cheeks. Between the gasping sobs, he laughed.

"Tim." Bruce sat down on the bed, meeting Alfred's eyes over the top of Tim's head. He ran his hand through Tim's hair. "Tim, son, you're okay. You're safe."

Tim wrenched himself away from Alfred and buried his face in Bruce's chest. He seemed so small, so young. Bruce hugged him closer.

"He had another episode," Alfred said quietly. He stood, picking up the syringe to carefully cap the needle. "I almost didn't get to him in time. The window..."

Bruce looked at the window. The tempered glass would be nearly impossible to break, but he could see streaks clawed into the white paint around it, like someone desperately tried to pry it open. Bruce's mouth went dry. "Was he trying to--"

Alfred shook his head. "Just escape, I believe. Our Master Tim is always thinking." He leaned down and kissed Tim's head. "The sedative seems to have kicked in, sir. Shall I warm up your dinner?"

Bruce settled himself back against the headboard, taking Tim with him. "Bring it up, Alfred. And my papers. I'll catch up on work."

"Very good, sir."

In sleep, his body loosened by the sedative, the muscles in Tim's face relaxed. His skin lost the grey pallor of the Joker Venom within a week of Bruce bringing him home, but the hysterical laughing fits and that rigid, painful smile lingered, cropping up in moments of stress. Bruce settled Tim so his head rested on Bruce's thigh. He'd come so close to losing him. Bruce carded his fingers through Tim's hair, committing the sight of him soft and at peace to memory.

Bruce almost died.

It was funny. The greatest fear, the very heights of terror, existed in the idea of losing his boys. His own life seemed small by comparison, barely worth noting. He'd gladly die a thousand times over for either of them. But if Bruce died that night, if he'd _stayed_ dead, what then?

Dick would return to the manor. Bruce didn't doubt his eldest for a moment, no matter what happened between them. Dick would never abandon Tim. Alfred would take care of them both. They'd survive losing him. And yet.

A deep fear yawned open in Bruce like the mouth of an endless cavern. He couldn't leave them. Bruce didn't have it in him to let them go. The logic of knowing the boys would survive didn't dispel that terror. If he couldn't watch them, couldn't protect them, then what?

Bruce had nearly died. If Wally was to be believed - and Bruce _did_ believe him, without question - Bruce _did_ die. He left his boys. Wally, without thought or even understanding, undid Bruce's death. Bruce didn't even remember it happening.

That, there, was a thought with potential.

Tim rolled off Bruce's thigh and curled up under the sheets, his back pressed against Bruce's leg. Bruce watched the rise and fall of his breathing and wondered. How far back could Wally go? How much could he fix?

Two months. That was how far back Wally would have to take them. The League wouldn't go along with it. Bruce could recognize, stepping back from his own mind, that he was not just toeing the line, but fully intending to fall on the wrong side of it.

If he succeeded, it wouldn't matter. No one would remember it. If he failed? The world could hardly take a worse turn than the one it gave Tim.

++++

Batman drove to the hills overlooking Gotham to wait. It was early yet, the sun not fully set, pinks bleeding into the oncoming dark sky. Even in the fast fading light, Batman could still see the crackle of yellow lightning speeding toward him.

Flash skidded to a stop on the other side of the Batmobile, dust kicking up behind him. "What's up, Bats? Got a bad guy you need me to nab?" He bounced in place, looking out at the city with an eagerness that reminded Batman of Robin's early days. Flash didn't get invites to other cities. Batman's files indicated he was a solo-operator despite his almost pathological need for attention. He'd never looked deeper into whether that was by accident or design.

"Flash," Batman greeted. "I need a favor. A personal favor."

If anything, Flash looked _more_ interested. "Sure, man. No problem. What's up?"

Best to get straight to the point. "I need you to time travel again."

"Hell, Bats," Flash groaned. He took a step away from the Batmobile and looked out at the city. "You guys _just_ finished telling me all the reasons why I shouldn't do that!"

"You'll remember I said nothing."

Flash finally looked at him again. "You didn't, did you?" He fixed Batman with a shrewd look. "You were probably too busy planning all the ways you could get me to use it instead. I know how that squirrelly brain of yours works."

Technically, he wasn't wrong, not that Batman would admit to that. "This came up later."

"So, what, you want me to go back to yesterday and stop a heist? Keep someone from getting shot?" Flash scrubbed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. "Look, you know I'm glad you asked me here, but I don't know about this."

"No."

"No?"

"No," Batman confirmed. "I told you. This is personal. I need you to go back two months, and I need you to take me with you. No questions asked."

Flash's eyes widened comically. He opened his mouth. He didn't make a sound. Then, "Are you freaking _kidding_ me? You want me to time travel for your _personal gain_?"

"Keep your voice down," Batman said. "Superman--"

"No, to hell with that! Are you serious, Bats? Of all people, I wouldn't expect this from you."

Flash didn't understand. Of course he didn't. The League didn't know about Batman's worst failure. He never intended to tell them. But with the chance of fixing things slipping through his fingers, Batman decided reticence would get him nowhere. "Fine. Get in the car."

Flash pointed to his chest, like _who, me_? "Where are we going?"

"To satisfy your curiosity," Batman said tersely. The doors to the Batmobile opened, and he slid into the driver's seat. After a moment, Flash joined him. The excitement was back again. He couldn't seem to sit still, hands running over the console with a childish glee. Batman slapped them away. "Don't touch anything."

"I can't help it! I'm in the freaking Batmobile!"

Batman pulled into the road and activated the autopilot system, tapping a quick message to Alfred on the monitor to notify them of their upcoming guest. It was almost seven. Alfred could ply Flash with food while Batman talked him around. 

"Where are we going?" Flash squished his face against the tinted windows, watching the hills disappear and the streets of Gotham take their place.

"The cave. I'm taking an alternate route." The Batmobile couldn't be seen driving directly to the manor.

Flash whirled around. "The cave? Yes!"

"You've been to the cave before."

"I was a little preoccupied last time. You're giving me a tour, right?"

"I might." Batman ignored Flash's shriek of glee. He disengaged the autopilot and shifted the car to aquatic mode just in time to drive it directly into the harbor. Flash _ooh_ ed and _ahh_ ed appropriately.

Navigating the Batmobile through the underwater entrance, Batman engaged the locks, fixing it in place as the platform raised it into the Batcave, water sloughing off as it broke the surface.

'"I need a Flashcave. Man! Look at this place!" When the doors lifted, Flash vanished from sight, reappearing at random as he investigated the cave. "How did you get this stuff down here?"

"With effort." Batman pushed the cowl off, relaxing himself into Bruce again. He went to the lockers, disengaging the traps in his suit as he stripped down.

"And you're doing… what exactly?" Flash froze in the middle of investigating the giant penny, his hands pressed to the enormous image of Lincoln.

"Changing. You should do the same." Wally was about Dick's size, he thought, and grabbed the spare sweats and tee-shirt his eldest left in his locker. Bruce tossed the clothes on a bench. 

"Why?" The cowl was pushed back when Wally appeared next to Bruce. He couldn't quite look at Bruce.

"No downstairs clothes upstairs," Bruce said. "Alfred's rule." As soon as he said it, Wally's body flickered, and he had on Dick's clothes. The Flash suit was gone.

Wally followed Bruce up the stairs, taking in the sight of the cave and then the mansion with open-mouthed fascination. Bruce closed the clock behind them, and Wally whistled. "That is so freaking cool."

"Thank you. Are you hungry? Alfred has dinner prepared."

"Have I ever said no to food?"

The dining room was nearly silent. The customary candles were packed away, and the overhead lighting left the room looking washed out. Alfred stood by Tim's chair, watching the young man push his food from side to side. "Good evening, sirs. I've taken the liberty of setting a place for you both. Yes, including you, Master Bruce. Man cannot run on coffee and justice alone," Alfred finished drily. Wally snickered.

"Thanks, J--ah, Alfred. It smells amazing."

Tim looked up at the unfamiliar voice, and Bruce swore all the air was sucked out of the room. He watched Tim's eyes slide from Bruce's face to Wally's, then to his plate. A giggle slipped out. Tim clenched his hand around his fork so hard his knuckles went white.

"It's all right, Tim," Bruce said. He gestured for Wally to sit at the head of the table and sat at Tim's side. "This is Wally. You've met before. He's the Flash."

"Hey--"

Bruce held up a hand, giving Wally a sharp look. Wally looked from him to Tim, the question clear in his eyes. "He works with me in the Justice League."

"From Central City," Tim said. He might as well have just mouthed it, quiet as he was. Wally leaned closer, trying to catch what Tim said. 

"He's visiting." Bruce put his hand on the table, close to Tim's. Tim dropped the fork and grabbed Bruce's hand, squeezing as hard as he could. Bruce let him. Tim started laughing.

[At first, the giggling stayed as soft as his voice, but the sound of it grew with the intensity of the tremors wracking Tim's body](https://lost-piero.tumblr.com/post/630620472962367489/participated-in-batfam-big-bang-art-for-the-fic). Between the laughs, Bruce heard Tim chanting, "Sorry, sorry," nearly incoherent. He hadn't started to cry yet. 

Wally sat frozen at the head of the table. He didn't touch his food. Bruce nodded at his plate.

"You should eat."

Tim cringed away from Wally, practically climbing into Bruce's lap. Bruce gathered him up, standing. "Alfred, bring a shake upstairs. I'm taking Tim to my room."

"Of course, sir." 

"Should I go?" Wally looked frantic. 

Bruce settled Tim against his hip. At thirteen, his legs were much longer than when Bruce first adopted him. They dangled past Bruce's knees. But Tim clung to him with the same desperation Dick did when Bruce first brought him home all those years ago. "Stay. You and I need to talk. Enjoy your dinner."

Carrying his son upstairs, Bruce settled him into bed in the master bedroom. He turned on the television and sat down next to Tim. Tim covered his mouth with both hands, his body shaking with the effort of keeping the laughter in. Bruce could see the way his lips pulled taut. "I'm sorry, Tim. I shouldn't have sprung a visitor on you."

Tim shook his head, rolling back toward Bruce. He cried, his eyes wide and panicked. 

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Bruce tried. "I still have your Star Wars collection in here. I think Episode IV is still in the DVD player." Tim hummed affirmatively. Bruce grabbed the remote and turned on the movie. "You don't need to be quiet," Bruce said after a moment. "You're home, Tim. Make as much noise as you'd like. You're safe."

It took the better part of an hour to settle Tim, but he didn't need a sedative which Bruce counted as a win. He buzzed for Alfred after Tim finished the protein shake and left Tim in his capable hands.

Bruce almost expected Wally to be gone when he returned downstairs, but Wally was right where he left him, picking at the last of his dinner. "Thank you for waiting."

Wally didn't even acknowledge him at first. He finished the dessert, a bread pudding that Alfred perfected back when Bruce was a child, and slid the plate away. "You did that on purpose."

"Did what?" Bruce refused to feel guilty.

"You knew bringing me here would freak that kid out." The only sign of how angry Wally was were the clenched fists resting on the table. "You subjected him to that, and you made me part of it. That's fucked up, Bruce."

"There's a lot that's fucked up about this situation, Wally. But I needed you to see." He needed Wally to understand.

"Yeah, well, I'm still not really clear on what that was. What happened to him, Bruce? That _was_ Robin, right?"

"He _is_ Robin." And always would be, whether he ever put on the suit again or not. "About two months ago, Tim went missing."

Bruce remembered the moment he noticed Tim was gone, the frantic scramble to assemble Nightwing and Batgirl. "I looked everywhere for him, Wally. Nightwing and Batgirl and I scoured the city. He was just _gone_."

Wally kicked out the chair next to him and snagged Bruce's wrist, pulling him down. "Then what happened?" he asked, his voice carefully quiet.

"I got a letter. It was addressed to Bruce Wayne. From the Joker."

"Shit."

Bruce laughed, not a shred of humor in the sound. "Exactly. We went immediately, but it'd been three weeks. He tortured Tim, Wally. Used everything he could think of to break my son. And it worked."

Wally pressed a hand to his mouth. He didn't blink.

Bruce grabbed Tim's abandoned napkin, fiddling with the edges of it. "He wanted one last joke, he said. Tim told him everything. He thought he'd won, but the Joker had to go one step further. He wanted Tim to kill me so _he_ could be Tim's father."

"You killed him," Wally said, "didn't you?"

"I would have. God, Wally, I would have ripped him to pieces and burned the remains. But I didn't get a chance." Bruce pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and took a long breath. He could still hear it, the sound of Tim's unhinged laughter, the Joker's taunts. He could see his son pointing the gun. Bruce wouldn't forget the sight, not for as long as he lived. "But Tim shot the Joker first."

Wally looked toward the stairs, toward the second floor. Toward Tim. "He's a kid," Wally said, voice strained. "Just a _kid_."

"Not anymore. He'll have to deal with what happened to him for the rest of his life. The kind of torture the Joker subjected him to…"

"You know all of what he did?"

Bruce grimaced. "He recorded it. Every second."

Wally sat back, staring blankly at the table. "That's...a lot, Bruce."

"It is. And I know I'm asking _you_ for even more, Wally. But please."

Wally didn't look up. "You want me to take you back," he began, "stop Tim from being taken."

Bruce jumped on that eagerly, feeling Wally's indecisiveness. He could convince him. Bruce knew he could. "Yes, just far back enough to save Tim. To stop this. It would be like nothing ever happened. No one would remember." 

"I will," Wally said. He looked at Bruce. "I'll remember. And so will you." He went quiet, his face thoughtful. "You really think I can save him."

"I know you can," Bruce said. He had to believe it. The alternative was unacceptable.

"The League isn't going to like this," Wally warned. 

"I didn't plan on telling them."

"Wow, color me shocked." Wally sighed and dropped his face into his hands. "This is a terrible idea. I guess I'm in."

Bruce couldn't stop his hand from grabbing Wally's shoulder. "Thank you," he said, though the words were hardly enough. "I owe you more than I can possibly repay."

"No shit," Wally said. He looked at the hand on his shoulder but didn't shrug Bruce off. "What's the plan?"

"The plan won't matter if we can't make it to the correct time. You have to perfect the ability to go back in time before we discuss anything else. Follow me." He led Wally back to the clock, opening the front of it and gesturing for Wally to go down the stairs. "Tell me everything about when you time-travelled the first time. Don't leave out a single detail, no matter how irrelevant it seems."

"You're talking like I put a lot of thought into this. I didn't, Bruce. I saw that guy shoot you, saw you drop dead, and ran. I just knew what to do."

"That's not good enough. _How_ did you know? Did you have to achieve a certain speed? Go a certain distance? There must be something."

Wally leaned against the computer console, arms crossed over his chest. "I was going really fast," he began, brow furrowed. "Like, _really_ fast. I don't think I've ever accelerated so fast before. I didn't notice how far I went, but I must've turned around. Had to, because I ended up back where I was before."

"You _thought_ you turned around, or you did? _Think_ , Wally."

Wally groaned. "Man, who knows? I don't think like you do, Bruce. I never do. I'm more of an act now, think later kind of guy."

"Believe me. I'm aware."

Chewing on his lip, Wally hummed. "I might not have actually turned. I might have gone straight and ended up back where you were anyway."

"Interesting." So direction didn't matter. Did intent? Was Wally thinking about saving Bruce when he ran? "How fast were you going?"

"No idea. But top speed, at least. Whatever that is."

"We'll have to test that," Bruce said. He had to know for certain the speed Wally needed to hit, for how long--all of it. "We'll do a trial run," he decided. 

"How?"

"I'll fit your uniform with sensors. You'll run with the intention of traveling back. Even a few seconds will do. The sensors will record your speed and distance. We can use that to calculate what it'll take to go back the necessary length of time for our purpose."

"What if we miss?" Wally asked. He still didn't sound convinced, despite agreeing to help. "What if something goes wrong?"

"It won't." Bruce wouldn't let it. He'd never get an opportunity like this again. He wasn't foolish enough to think what they were doing would fully escape the League's notice. If they didn't manage it within a few days, their absences would be noted. Bruce could delay it a few more days by putting in leave for both of them. He could say he needed the Flash for a case. An unusual request, but one that would be overlooked for a time.

"We'll have to account for weight," Wally pointed out, "if you want me to lug you back with me. You're no featherweight, Bats."

"I'll take that into account." Bruce didn't laugh, but it was a near thing. The way Wally studied his face, Bruce knew he hadn't missed the rare flash of good humor.

"It would be easier if I did it alone. We don't know what'll happen if I take you back. What if you see yourself? Isn't that, like, supposed to be a bad thing?"

"You watch too many movies."

"Seriously! When we go back, there'll be two Flashes and two Batmans. What then?"

"Will there be?" Bruce asked. "You said it yourself. You ran and simply appeared in the place you were a few seconds into the past. I won't pretend to understand the mechanics behind how your ability works, but we won't physically travel back, Wally. We'll just appear where we were at the time." Bruce hoped, anyway. "I have to be there, Wally. I know what went wrong. I've thought about nothing else for weeks. I could tell you what happened every second starting the day Tim disappeared." 

"I guess." Wally shrugged. "So you've actually got these sensors? They're not just a thing in your head?"

Bruce navigated to the master lock screen and typed in a passcode. A compartment opened from the console. He grabbed the circular tray inside and passed it to Wally.

"I developed them after we started the League," Bruce admitted. "Developing training programs was an instinctive response."

Looking at the tray, Wally chuckled. "Can't say I'm that surprised. So what do I do? Do they stick?"

"They need to be sewn into the suit. If you lose these, it'll take a few weeks to recreate them."

"So no pressure." Wally tapped his ring and the Flash suit sprang out. "I'm not bad with a needle and thread, but I'm guessing you had something else in mind."

"Leave it with me. I'll reinforce the waist and cuffs and embed them there. Be back here in the morning, and we'll get started."

"In the _morning_? As in _during the day_?"

"We don't have time to waste." Bruce took the tray back from Wally. "If you'd prefer to stay, you're welcome to a guest room. You need to be in peak condition for what I have in mind."

Wally hesitated. "It's not that I wouldn't like to stay, but will the kid be cool with that?"

"It'll be fine. Just...don't surprise him."

"I think I'll pass. I'll be back in the morning. Any chance of breakfast?" Wally asked with a hopeful smile.

"Alfred's cooking isn't something to be missed. Be here at seven." 

Wally saluted, then vanished from sight. Bruce turned back to the computer, the Flash suit clenched in one fist while the other hand held the tray containing the sensors. He had work to do.

Bruce didn't sleep that night. He hadn't been entirely truthful with Wally. The suit was easy enough to modify, the sensors even easier to attach, but the program he'd designed to process the data was one designed to track the Flash and measure his typical abilities. It was a way to make certain Bruce could stop him if he ever went rogue. It took hours of poring over coding to tweak the program toward processing unknown data without parameters and create a projection of _necessary _speed.__

__He finished checking for errors around six. Setting the program to process a sample data set, Bruce went to shower._ _

__Standing under the spray of hot water, he nearly fell asleep, his eyelids heavy. Bruce shook himself awake before turning the water cold, the freezing temperature forcing his mind to stay alert. He rushed through the shower and dressed, stopping by the computer on his way upstairs. The program was a success._ _

__Stepping out of the clock, Bruce could smell breakfast. His stomach gave a low rumble. He'd forgotten to eat, he realized. It just seemed so unimportant in the scheme of things._ _

__"Good morning, Master Bruce. Though perhaps I should save the greeting for when you've actually slept."_ _

__Bruce was too tired to roll his eyes. "How's Tim?"_ _

__"He's taking his breakfast on the patio. I thought the fresh air would do him well. Master West is currently in the dining room."_ _

__"Thank you, Alfred. I'll take it from here. Tim deserves your full attention."_ _

__"It isn't _my_ attention he's needing, Master Bruce." Alfred gave him a pointed look before heading out the French doors to the patio. Bruce watched him go and listened for the sound of his voice, waiting to hear Tim's response. It never came._ _

__"Morning Bruce," Wally greeted him when he stepped into the dining room. "You look like hell. What was all that about being in peak condition?" He speared a sausage and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth._ _

__"I'm not the one doing the running," Bruce reminded him, but the first thing Bruce grabbed was the carafe, pouring his mug as full of coffee as it could get. Wally helpfully handed him the cream._ _

__"Maybe so, but it's _your_ brain doing the planning." _ _

__They ate quickly and without much conversation. Bruce was glad for the quiet. He needed to think, to get his mind to re-engage after hours of tinkering. It took time to refocus, but time was not something he had on his side. Not yet._ _

__Alfred never came back to the dining room. Bruce knew he wasn't pleased with what he saw as Bruce abandoning Tim, but he'd understand. All of this would be well worth the trouble for the end result._ _

__"Excuse me." Bruce stepped out of the dining room, leaving Wally to polish off the last of the food. He didn't have much time, no, but he had enough for this._ _

__The patio was a rarely used part of the manor. It held a great deal of bittersweet memories for Bruce, mornings spent with his mother, watching her in the rose garden. He could still hear her singing to the roses some mornings, as though she'd be waiting there for him if he stepped out the doors._ _

__This morning, his mother's memory was absent. Tim sat at the iron table, his food partially eaten, and he didn't look up when Bruce stepped outside, his footsteps loud, every movement choreographed._ _

__"Good morning, sir." Alfred stood at Tim's right._ _

__"Good morning," Tim said, almost as an echo._ _

__Bruce sat down next to Tim. "How did you sleep?"_ _

__Tim didn't say anything else. He held out his hand, though, and Bruce grabbed it._ _

__"Master Tim slept quite well last night," Alfred reported. Bruce read between the lines. He'd been given a sedative, most likely._ _

__"I'll call Leslie." They needed to step Tim down to something less habit-forming._ _

__Bruce sat with Tim until his son let his hand go, returning his attention to his plate. Bruce kissed his head, breathing in against his hair, before leaving._ _

__Wally wasn't where Bruce left him. "Wally?"_ _

__"Over here!" Wally stepped out of the kitchen. At some point, he'd put the suit on._ _

__"Eager?"_ _

__Wally shook his head. "Already done," he laughed. "I only meant to go back about ten minutes, but I think I overshot. I got to eat breakfast twice, though, so that was cool."_ _

__Bruce had to take a minute to wrap his head around that. "And you've retained your memories of the first go around?"_ _

__"Looks like it. Should we go to the cave and run the data?"_ _

__Apparently Wally really _had_ lived the morning twice. _ _

__Down in the cave, Wally wasted no time in handing the suit over. Bruce removed the sensors and put them in the data tray, setting the upload to begin. "Describe what you did."_ _

__"I ran," Wally said. "You--or I guess past you?--suggested I concentrate on when I wanted to arrive. It didn't work the first time." He grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. "I slammed into the wall over there. Hurt like hell."_ _

__Interesting. "Did intending to time travel make the difference?"_ _

__Wally shrugged. "I guess? Man, the whole thing was just...instinctual. it was like something just clicked into place and there I went. Right back to breakfast."_ _

__"But you appeared in your suit?"_ _

__"Yeah. Only real difference."_ _

__The upload hit seventy percent. "And how did you feel when you arrived?"_ _

__"Well, hungry, mostly. And tired. But not, like, outrageously tired. Sorry, this isn't helpful, is it?"_ _

__"All of it is helpful," Bruce insisted. "I don't think we'll be able to pinpoint an exact moment. It's good to know that in advance. How far back did you go?"_ _

__"About two hours," Wally said. He watched the computer intently, the upload crawling closer to completion. "So should I try to overshoot?"_ _

__"Yes. Going a few hours, even a few days too early is fine. It would give us time to acclimate. If we show up too late, we'll have to do it again."_ _

__The upload completed. Bruce transferred the data to the processing program and watched the projections populate. "You have to hit a certain speed," he said. Not surprising. "But it looks like distance plays a part as well. The farther back you want to go, the longer you have to run."_ _

__Wally leaned over the back of Bruce's chair, eyes skimming over the numbers. "How far are we talking about?"_ _

__"For the final run? I won't know until we retest the numbers with the data from my first ride-along."_ _

__Wally groaned. "More testing?"_ _

__"We've got no room for error," Bruce said. "How long will it take you to get to this speed?" He tapped the number on the screen._ _

__"Maybe...ten seconds?"_ _

__Bruce looked down the length of the cave. Not enough. "Where did you run the second time?"_ _

__"Your driveway."_ _

__The long slope of the driveway wasn't a bad idea, per se, but Bruce chafed at the idea of doing a test run in the open. If the League was watching…_ _

__Then again, they were time traveling. The League could watch whatever they wanted in _this_ present. They wouldn't remember it when Bruce fixed things. "The driveway it is," he announced. "I'll reattach the sensors."_ _

__"I could do it," Wally suggested, watching Bruce work from over his shoulder. "Be a lot faster…"_ _

__"But not necessarily done right."_ _

__"You're just a control freak," Wally muttered, but he didn't push the point. He wandered around the cave, looking at the cases and all the bits and pieces Bruce collected over the years._ _

__Bruce had to herd Wally up the stairs and through the house. Wally seemed more inclined to poke around in Bruce’s personal life than experiment with his newfound ability. That Bruce had to be the one nudging him toward breaking the rules didn’t sit well with Bruce, but he shook his mind free of that particular discomfort and followed Wally out the front door._ _

__Flash was already sitting on the hood of his Porsche. It was one of the most surreal experiences of Bruce's life. He stepped out onto his driveway and rolled his sleeves up at his elbows, discarding his blazer on the stairs. It was early morning and already hot.._ _

__Wally hopped off the car and bounced on his heels. "I, uh, guess we should get this thing underway." He turned around and squared down, waving his arms at Bruce. "Hop on, Bats."_ _

__Bruce closed his eyes. He _really_ was thankful this timeline would cease entirely because if anyone ever saw him getting a piggyback ride from the Flash, he'd never live it down._ _

__Climbing onto Wally's back, he set his hands on Wally's shoulder. No matter what he did, it would be an awkward ride, Bruce reminded himself grimly. Best just get it over with._ _

__"Arms around my neck," Wally told him. "Hold on tight. Hitting the ground at the speed of light is probably not something you want to experience."_ _

__"Shut up and run," Bruce demanded, but he held onto Wally's neck, letting Wally reach back to hold his thighs in place._ _

__Then Wally ran._ _

__He'd moved Bruce out of the way of bullets and debris before, but the experience of being momentarily displaced didn't hold a candle to the way the world melted around him into a blur of light and color. Bruce closed his eyes against the force of it, dropping his head down to avoid the full weight of the air ripping at him. He didn't know how Wally carried people without them getting torn to shreds. He didn't know how he wasn't dead on the spot. Lightning kicked up around them, grabbing at Bruce, and everything inverted, his physical presence shrinking, fading._ _

__Then darkness. The motion around him stopped completely. A familiar smell drew him back, but it wasn't Wally, the smell of ozone and sweat. It was something younger and infinitely dearer. Bruce opened his eyes. He straightened up._ _

__Alfred met his gaze. Beyond him, Bruce could see his mother’s garden, the red of the roses somehow even more vibrant than they’d ever been before. Bruce blinked slowly, the world around him moving at a crawling pace but gaining speed. Alfred's mouth moved but he couldn't understand the words._ _

__"--ything all right, sir?"_ _

__Speed returned to Bruce's surroundings. Tim looked up at him, his eyes hazy from the medication but more alert than Bruce expected. His breakfast sat on the table, barely touched. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced than they’d been when Bruce saw him at breakfast the first time._ _

__"Bruce," Tim said, his voice hoarse but not as sandpaper rough as it typically was after a fit._ _

__Bruce's legs gave. He dropped to his knees beside Tim and wrapped his arms around his son, that small spark of hope burning brighter than ever before._ _

__+++++_ _

__"It's a great day," Wally said when Bruce found him in the dining room. "I've had breakfast _three times_ which basically makes this the best idea ever. Should have done this years ago!"_ _

__Bruce couldn't criticize him for making light of such a dangerous ability, of his responsibility as a hero. Bruce couldn't stop smiling. When Wally noticed, he dropped his bacon. "Holy shit."_ _

__"You did it," Bruce said. "You really did it."_ _

__"Apparently so." Wally's voice broke. He looked away. "I guess we should get the sensors to the cave."_ _

__"Finish your breakfast." Bruce sat down across from Wally. His own empty stomach made itself known, and he grabbed a plate, filling it. "We have plenty of time." He frowned, looking down at himself. "I’m not wearing the same clothes I was wearing this morning."_ _

__"Yeah, and?"_ _

__It meant his physical body, all of it up to and including what he was wearing, would travel back with him. Bruce’s mind had concocted a half-baked theory that Wally’s ability only displaced the mind. Apparently not. "Alfred didn't notice. If it was just Tim…."_ _

__"Can't explain that one," Wally said around a full mouth, shrugging. "At least you weren’t wearing the suit."_ _

__It was another detail to think about. "Is this when you intended to arrive?"_ _

__"Kind of. I wanted to make sure we were at the manor. I was actually aiming for when you asked me for the sensors back because, you know, that would have been super cool, but--"_ _

__"So you were short by half an hour," Bruce summed up. "Interesting. The addition of my weight might not make as much of a difference as I expected."_ _

__"Maybe," Wally said, agreeable in the face of free food._ _

__"I'm heading down to the cave. Join me when you're ready."_ _

__Wally, of course, was already down in the cave by the time Bruce got down the stairs, several plates of food sitting on the bench next to him. He'd rearranged it to be closer to the computer. Bruce reminded himself that he couldn't save Tim without Wally. He could hold a grudge about the state of the cave's furniture after the timeline was corrected._ _

__The suit was laying over the back of Bruce's chair. Bruce grabbed it and removed the sensors, placing them in the tray and setting the computer to download both sets of data._ _

__"So what next?" Wally asked, watching Bruce work. "Get the data and run?"_ _

__"No. This will be a much bigger jump than an hour or two. You'll need to be well-rested. We'll save the jump for tomorrow morning." He'd need the time to calculate the best drop point. He and Wally would need to both be in safe locations where they could reach each other. Part of Bruce wanted to cut Wally loose the moment he got to the past, to keep this in the family where it belonged, but his gut instinct disagreed. Nothing ever happened exactly the way he wanted it to, and he hardly had anything to compare the situation to. If something went wrong, they'd need to be together to get out of it. Wally would remain with him until the job was done._ _

__"You want me to leave?"_ _

__"Stay," Bruce said. "There's a guest cottage out back. You'll have your own space, and Tim won't run across you. Rest up and eat well."_ _

__"And the perks just keep getting better." Wally grinned at him. "You can recruit me for your off-the-record-missions any time, Bats!"_ _

__"I trust you can find it yourself."_ _

__"Okay, okay, I can take a hint." Wally vanished from sight, the plates and trays following one by one. When he materialized by Bruce again, the bench had also returned to its original position. "Same time tomorrow?"_ _

__Bruce nodded once, already focused on the compiled projections. "Let Alfred know if you need anything," he said, but Wally was already gone. No matter. He'd inform Alfred a guest would be staying with him when he went up to check on Tim._ _

__But time got away from him. By the time Bruce had a solid plan in place, it was nearing sundown. He'd spent the entire day in the cave. He hadn't taken a break, hadn't thought about eating. He couldn't say when the tray of food appeared next to him. It was cold now._ _

__When he returned upstairs, he could hear noise from the kitchen, nearly drowned out by the sound of the television. Bruce found Tim in the entertainment room. Tim stood behind the couch, his hands resting on the back of it, squeezing rhythmically. His posture was so straight it looked painful. Bruce could imagine holding himself rigid for any length of time would hurt. He walked, footsteps loud, and laid his hands on Tim's shoulder. "Let's sit down," he suggested._ _

__Tim didn't look at him or speak, but he let Bruce lead him to the sofa, let him pull Tim down next to him, an arm around his shoulders. Tim let out a laugh, one hand slapping at his mouth to stifle the sound. Bruce gently pulled the hand away._ _

__"It's okay Tim. You don't have to be quiet." Forcing himself to remain silent didn't help. Leslie suggested that it actually did damage to his throat. When Tim laughed again, it was through clenched teeth._ _

__Bruce didn't stop rubbing at Tim's arm, a soothing up and down motion, even as the laughs grew louder, the staccato bursts jerking out of Tim against his will. Over the top of Tim's head, Bruce saw the guest house out the window. All the lights were on._ _

__"Not much longer now," Bruce murmured. Tim would suffer one more night. Bruce would see to it that Tim would never see another sunset trapped inside his own head, fighting an uphill battle against a body that wouldn't cooperate. Bruce would see his son whole or die trying. In this, he would not compromise._ _

__**_ _

__"I'm not sure my shoes are going to survive this."_ _

__"Wear your boots. We can't take the chance that we'll show up in our civilian lives in uniform."_ _

__Wally kicked off the ratty trainers and put them under the bench by the lockers. Bruce wore a suit. He'd dressed like he was heading to the office. In all likelihood he _was_ , just on an earlier date._ _

__"With that distance, where are we doing this?" Wally wore jeans and a shirt, the red of his boots almost clown-like in civilian wear. "I'm guessing the driveway isn't going to cut it."_ _

__"You'd be correct." Bruce gestured for Wally to follow, leading him upstairs. "You're going to run on the Brown Bridge."_ _

__"That's pretty public." Wally glanced around as they walked through the house toward the front door. "And we're not exactly dressed for super-heroing in public."_ _

__Wally wasn’t wrong, but Bruce had run the numbers. They knew Wally could travel back in time. The worst case scenario was they wouldn’t go back far enough. The likelihood of a very public incident involving Brucie Wayne getting a piggy-back from an unknown redhead was slim. Bruce itched to find an alternative to the bridge, but the more time lapsed between the present and the past he needed to get to, the greater the chance that Wally wouldn’t be able to go back far enough. Bruce would take the risk. "We have one chance to get this right. The public is the least of our concerns."_ _

__The League would also notice a temporal disturbance. They had monitor protocols specifically to notice events like that. If Wally doesn't take them back, if something goes wrong, it'll be both their necks on the chopping block._ _

__"So no pressure."_ _

__Bruce raised an eyebrow at Wally. "Something like that." He put his thumb on the handle of the Porsche's door to engage the print-based locks. "The bridge is a fifteen minutes drive, longer in traffic. Plenty of time to overcome your nerves."_ _

__Wally slid into the passenger's seat, huffing. "What nerves? Man, maybe _you're_ the one panicking! I'm totally cool."_ _

__"Totally," Bruce deadpanned, starting the car. He flexed his grip on the steering wheel. “You’ve done this already, Wally. I have full faith in you.” Wally didn’t reply, but Bruce noted the way Wally’s shoulders lost some of their rigid tension._ _

__They drove in silence, Wally's leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Bruce parked the car on the shoulder ahead of the bridge before gesturing Wally to follow. The morning traffic was heavy, cars bumper to bumper heading into downtown Gotham. Bruce strode quickly down the side of the road. He stopped before they stepped onto the bridge proper. Cars sped past them, the wind a cold slap in their wake. Wally kept his hands jammed in his pockets, his head down. Bruce wondered if he was having second thoughts._ _

__"So," Wally said, "this is it."_ _

__Bruce nodded. They'd have a clear run down the shoulder of the bridge. Once Wally got moving, no one would be able to see them. No one would be able to stop them._ _

__They get into position, Wally carefully holding Bruce in place on his back, Bruce leaning forward into Wally's back. The expanse of the bridge stretched out before them. Bruce tapped Wally's shoulder twice._ _

__Wally ran._ _

__Unlike before, the distance didn't disappear in a split second. Bruce clenched his eyes shut against the kaleidoscope speeding past him, but the _blink and it's gone_ moment seemed to stretch out to eternity. Bruce held fast to Wally and willed it to end. _ _

__And then, finally, it did._ _

__Bruce didn't open his eyes. He panted, felt like he was gasping for air. He reached up to loosen his tie. A phone rang. When he finally looked, he was in his office at Wayne Enterprises._ _

__The phone continued to ring. Disoriented, Bruce fumbled through the mess on his desk and found his cell phone. "Wayne."_ _

__"It worked!" Wally shouted. Bruce jerked the phone from his ear, grimacing. When he put it back to his ear, Wally hadn't shut up. "...the right day and everything!"_ _

__Bruce glanced at the calendar on his monitor. It was, in fact, the morning of Tim's abduction. "Well done. Where are you?"_ _

__"Work. Want me to ditch?"_ _

__"This isn't high school. You've got to maintain your identity, Wally."_ _

__Wally laughed, not necessarily a pleasant sound. "Right, will do, Ba--Bruce. When do you want me?"_ _

__Bruce tapped a finger on his desk. "Hold your position. I'll contact you when we've met our goal."_ _

__He ended the call and spun his chair to face the window, looking out over downtown Gotham. He looked at the office across the street, at the woman in the window watering a plant. The streets below were filled with cars, a steady flow of traffic. It was ten in the morning, the sun was bright as it ever could be in the city, and Tim was sitting at school, whole and happy. Bruce succeeded. Tim was saved._ _

__He forced himself to work for a few hours, set on maintaining some semblance of normalcy. Even the boredom brought him some small measure of comfort. Every repetition brought him closer to the intended result. His personal assistant came in and out, just as before, dropping papers off and bringing coffee. She jostled the cup and splashed her bright pink blouse and the stack of papers she had pressed to her chest. Bruce waved off her apologies the same way he had the last time around. By two, the day was dragging. When his personal phone rang, Bruce jumped for the chance for a break, despite already knowing who was on the other end of the line._ _

__"Wayne."_ _

__"Hey, Bruce." Dick sounded uneasy. He hadn't sounded happy to speak to Bruce in a year, but Bruce felt lighter hearing his eldest's voice._ _

__"Dick. What do you need?"_ _

__Dick made a frustrated noise. "Do you have to say it like that?"_ _

__"Like what?" Bruce had misstepped. He wasn't one hundred percent sure _how_ , but he clearly had._ _

__"Nevermind. Look, I need some help tonight." Then Bruce remembered. He'd been so focused on Tim, he'd forgotten where he'd actually been when the Joker abducted Tim. Dick continued, "There's an...event tonight. I might need an escort." A drug bust, Bruce recalled. The Falcone family._ _

__Bruce recalled how glad he'd been for Dick to ask him. Since leaving, he'd gone to great lengths to prove he didn't need Bruce's help. He didn't seem to want anything from Bruce, in fact._ _

__Dick probably wasn't going to take the denial well. "I'm unavailable tonight. Take Barbara instead."_ _

__For a moment, Dick was silent. Then the explosion came. "Are you _kidding_ me, Bruce? I never ask you for anything, and the one time I do, you blow me off? I thought you said you'd have my back!"_ _

__"I do," Bruce said. "Of course I do. But Dick, there are other things in play. You don't need me that, but I have--"_ _

__"More important things to do than babysit your ex-ward," Dick finished for him. "Yeah, I got that. Good luck with your thing." Then he hung up._ _

__Bruce stared at the phone screen, his chest hollow. Dick didn't understand, that was all. He didn't know what was at stake. When all of this was over, when Bruce could be sure of Tim's safety, Bruce would tell him. He owed Dick that much._ _

__But Dick was an adult now. And he'd made it clear, time after time, that he didn't need Bruce. Tim did. Dick would make the same choice if he had all the information._ _

__He had a three o'clock meeting which he made it through by the skin of his teeth. Walking out of the office just shy of four, pulling his tie loose, Bruce called Alfred._ _

__"Is everything alright?" Alfred asked, skipping the pleasantries._ _

__"Everything is fine. I'm leaving early today."_ _

__"Will wonders never cease," Alfred said. "I'm just walking out the door to pick up Master Tim. Will you be available when we return home or ensconced in your study?"_ _

__"Actually, Alfred, I'll pick Tim up." He could hear Alfred moving on the other end of the line._ _

__"Master Tim would enjoy that very much," Alfred said. He sounded surprised._ _

__"We'll see you soon, Alfred." Bruce ended the call. He seldom ever drove to Gotham Academy. Even when Dick attended, Alfred was the one who primarily picked him up and dropped him off. Conferences were often done over the phone to accommodate Bruce's busy schedule. His own lack of attention left something uncomfortably tight in his chest now. Hindsight, he supposed. Bruce would have to do better, be better. He didn't imagine Wally would continue running him back if he kept dropping the ball._ _

__Pulling into the carpool line, Bruce parked the car just as the bell rang for dismissal. A flood of children came pouring out of the building. He rolled the window down, trying to catch a glimpse of his kid in the swarm. Tim didn't leave the building for another ten minutes, long enough for Bruce's heart to start pounding, for his mind to start spinning worst case scenarios._ _

__When Tim finally came trailing out of the school, Bruce got out of the car and stood next to it. He waved when he caught Tim's eye._ _

__Tim's face broke into a grin, and he ran to the car. "Bruce! What are you doing here?" Then his face dropped. "Is Alfred okay?"_ _

__"He's fine. I had time this afternoon and thought I'd pick you up instead."_ _

__Tim hopped into the car, tossing his bookbag into the back. He was smiling again, to Bruce's relief. "Thanks, Bruce."_ _

__Bruce just wished he didn't look so surprised. It was another mistake he'd have to fix. At least now he had the time._ _

__"How was school?"_ _

__"Okay," Tim said after a moment of hesitation._ _

__"You don't sound sure about that."_ _

__Tim slumped in the seat. "It _was_ ," he insisted. "Just really boring."_ _

__"Have you made many friends?"_ _

__"They're a bunch of snobs," Tim muttered, wrinkling his nose. "I'd rather hang out with you and Dick and Babs."_ _

__Children can be cruel. Bruce remembered his own time in middle school vividly, of being angry and odd and utterly alone. He hadn't fit in, even with the advantage of being raised by Gotham's wealthiest, an advantage Tim so obviously lacked. "Dick felt the same way."_ _

__"He did?"_ _

__"And so did I. Is someone giving you a hard time?"_ _

__"No." The denial was both immediate and suspicious. "I just don't like school, that's all. I'd rather be Robin."_ _

__"You're a good Robin, but you need to spend time as Tim as well."_ _

__"You got that from Alfred," Tim pointed out, shrewd as ever. "If I have to be Tim, you should have to be Bruce as well."_ _

__"Believe me, sport, I know." As much as he'd like to shuck the Bruce Wayne mask altogether, he knew it was an impractical goal, one that wouldn't do his sons any favors. He couldn't help but wonder if Dick would be happier now if they'd spent more time as Bruce and Dick rather than Batman and Robin._ _

___Add it to the list_ , he told himself. He suspected he'd be telling himself that about a lot of things._ _

__When they got home, Bruce parked the car while Tim ran inside in search of snacks. Bruce followed after him, hanging his coat by the door._ _

__"Master Tim looks quite happy."_ _

__"I should pick him up more often," Bruce agreed. "I... think he might be having problems at school."_ _

__"He's thirteen. I would be more concerned if he wasn't," Alfred said drily. "Give him an opportunity, and he'll come to you. The boy wants nothing more than your attention."_ _

__He sounded so matter of fact about it. It made Bruce's heart ache. Until the accident, he hadn't noticed how dependent Tim was on him. He loved Tim, of course, and he loved Dick as well. But before the Joker took Tim, Bruce's feelings about his son had been much more compartmentalized. Tim was Tim, the child who lived in the manor. Robin was Robin, his partner. He'd forgotten to be Tim's father. He'd forgotten so much._ _

__Tim sat at the breakfast bar, his books spread out in front of him. He was frantically scribbling something._ _

__"A lot of homework today?"_ _

__Tim glanced up at him, then back down at his notebook. "Not too much, but I want to get it done before dinner so I can grab a power nap before patrol."_ _

__"Actually, Tim, we won't be going out tonight."_ _

__"But--we?" Tim set down his pencil. "As in, neither of us?"_ _

__"Neither of us," Bruce confirmed. He leaned against the bar, taking a look at Tim's books. Algebra, he guessed. "I thought we could take a night off. You mentioned the other day you wanted to marathon those space movies."_ _

__"Star Wars," Tim said. "You--are you sure? I don't need to stay in and watch movies. I was just talking. Patrol is important."_ _

__"You said it was a travesty that I'd never seen them," Bruce pointed out. "And didn't we just agree? You need more time as Tim. I need more time as Bruce. Might as well do it together."_ _

__Tim looked so gobsmacked. "You mean it?" he asked, his homework completely forgotten._ _

__Bruce put a hand on Tim's shoulder, squeezing. "Yes. Of course."_ _

__"Can we invite Dick?"_ _

__Bruce grimaced. Dick would not take it well that Bruce ditched him to watch movies with Tim. "Dick has plans. Maybe next time. We'll make it a family night tradition."_ _

__Tim whooped and jumped off the barstool. "I'm going to get the movies!"_ _

__"Tim, it's barely four o'clock."_ _

__"I need to prepare!" Tim insisted, running up the stairs._ _

__Bruce watched him go, bemused. When he took Tim's seat and started cleaning up the school things he'd left behind, Alfred set a cup of tea on the bar._ _

__"That was a good thing you did."_ _

__Bruce took a sip of the tea. "It's something I should have been doing all along," he admitted._ _

__"I won't pretend to know where this epiphany came from, sir," Alfred began, turning back to the kitchen, "but I for one am glad for it. It's never too late, Master Bruce. But children do grow up, and they do it faster than you realize."_ _

__Bruce thought of Dick and the boy he'd been. He remembered the anger in Dick's voice only a few hours prior, how disappointed he'd been. Not surprised. He hoped Alfred was right. "Don't let me forget that," he said, quiet._ _

__Alfred didn't turn away from the dinner he was preparing, but he did go still. "I will do my best."_ _

__Bruce's phone chimed in his pocket. Then again. It chimed another three times before Bruce finally decided to look at it._ _

___Wally: hows things?_ _ _

___Wally: the kid ok? u need anything?_ _ _

___Wally: what time is it supposed to happen?_ _ _

___Wally: bc im thinking i should maybe be there? keep on eye out?????_ _ _

___Wally: ?????????_ _ _

__Bruce rolled his eyes. He couldn't stop himself. He hit the call button. Wally picked up after half a ring._ _

__"Hey!" He sounded breathless._ _

__"You should give someone time to respond before flooding them with messages."_ _

__"Yeah, sure," Wally laughed. "Look, it's not my fault you're slow."_ _

__"I'm sure. But you don't need to worry about tonight. We're not going out."_ _

__"At all?"_ _

__"Not at all," Bruce confirmed._ _

__"That's probably a good idea. Still, want me over there? I could keep an eye on things in your place."_ _

__It wasn't a terrible idea. Bruce knew he could trust Wally. But at the same time, "No, I think we should all take the night off. I'll call in the morning."_ _

__"If all goes well, I guess that'll be it, huh? Who'd’ve thought it would be that easy?"_ _

__If everything went well, and Bruce was certain it would, he'd have to do something for Wally. Something big. "I'll contact you tomorrow. Have a good night, Wally."_ _

__"Yeah," Wally said, "back at you."_ _

__"That was Master West?" Alfred asked._ _

__"I told him I planned to stay in tonight," Bruce said. "He offered to watch Gotham."_ _

__"I wasn't aware you spent much time with him outside of the Justice League."_ _

__"I don't," Bruce immediately denied. "But all of us keep in contact. It prevents surprises." Well, that was a damn lie, but Bruce didn't think he could bring himself to tell Alfred the truth. It was enough that Alfred had to live through the reality of it in the other timeline._ _

__"I'm glad," Alfred said, quiet. "I'm glad you can count them among your friends."_ _

__Bruce tried not to let his guilt show on his face. He hated lying to Alfred. "I am too." But after this, he probably _would_ count Wally among his closest allies. The man literally changed time and reality for Bruce, for Bruce's son. That wasn't something he'd soon forget._ _

__Alfred decided to make an event of it and set up dinner in the entertainment room. Bruce didn't even know they _had_ dinner trays, but there they were. Tim was so excited he was practically vibrating with it._ _

__"We have to watch them in chronological order," Tim explained._ _

__"But the box says episode four." Bruce waved the DVD case. "I thought the first movie was episode one."_ _

__"That’s part of the prequels. The fourth movie was made first. The first movie was made fourth. It's not in chronological order, Bruce." Tim rolled his eyes._ _

__"Obviously," Bruce agreed, nodding along like any of that made any sense._ _

__"I believe you should take the expert at his word," Alfred cut in. He dimmed the lights. "I'll be back to check in with you shortly."_ _

__"Alfie, can't you watch with us?" Tim asked, looking over the back of the sofa._ _

__Alfred hesitated in the doorway. Bruce looked back at him. "He's got a point, Alfred. It's _family_ night."_ _

__"Please, Alfred?"_ _

__"If you insist, sirs." Alfred joined them, taking a seat on the other side of Tim._ _

__"Yes!" Tim grabbed the remote. "This is going to be awesome!"_ _

__Alfred and Bruce traded looks over the top of Tim's head. Bruce didn't care that he'd watched these movies hundreds of times in a future that no longer existed. He'd watch the damned space opera a thousand times more just for Tim to stay as he was in that moment._ _

__+±++_ _

__The phone was ringing._ _

__Bruce looked around, groggy, and tried to remember where he was. The television was still on, the title screen from A New Hope playing on repeat. The lights were off, and a blanket covered Bruce's lap. Tim was curled up next to him sleeping. Alfred was nowhere in sight, and the mess from dinner and dessert was gone._ _

__The ringing stopped and immediately picked back up._ _

__Bruce carefully extricated himself from Tim's limpet-like grip and grabbed his phone off the table. The screen showed a Gotham phone number and above that, the time read just after three in the morning. He answered the call as he stepped out of the room._ _

__"Wayne."_ _

__"Bruce." Jim Gordon, his mind immediately identified the voice._ _

__"Jim." Bruce looked back into the entertainment and got a glimpse of Tim. He was snoring softly and curled into a little ball beneath the blanket. Tim was fine. Everything was fine. "What's happening?"_ _

__"Bruce," Jim said again. "God, I'm so sorry." His voice broke._ _

__"What? What is it?" Bruce's pulse picked up. He stepped into the kitchen and sat down, suddenly feeling weak. "For God's sake, Jim, spit it out!"_ _

__"It's Dick, Bruce. He was--he was found about an hour ago."_ _

__"Found? Found where? Doing what?"_ _

__"He's dead, Bruce," Jim said. "I'm sorry. He was gone already when we found him."_ _

__Bruce dropped the phone._ _

__He barely noticed Alfred stepping up behind him and grabbing it off the floor. He just kept hearing Jim's voice. _He's dead_ , over and over. _He's dead. Dick's dead.__ _

__All that work. He'd changed it for the worse. He'd made _everything_ worse. _ _

__Hands were on his face. Bruce looked up into Alfred's eyes and saw the tears rolling down his face. He couldn't remember Alfred crying in front of him before. "They need someone to identify the body, my boy. I can go, if you can't."_ _

__Bruce just looked at him. Identify the body? Dick was dead. Therefore there was a body. Bruce needed to see the body. He didn't want to._ _

__"How?" His voice sounded gravelly, like he'd been screaming. Bruce knew he hadn't made a sound. "How did it happen? The Joker?"_ _

__Alfred's thumb brushed away a tear as it welled up and slipped down Bruce's cheek. "No. Not him. There were bullet wounds. I believe Master Dick was investigating a drug ring. He stopped by the manor this morning to pick up information."_ _

__The drug ring. God, Bruce was there last time. And he'd told Dick he didn't _need_ Bruce, to bring Barbara. "Was he alone?"_ _

__Alfred shook his head. "Miss Gordon is alive but in intensive care. The commissioner is with her now."_ _

__"And--their uniforms--"_ _

__"I believe Miss Gordon took care of it before succumbing to her injuries. The commissioner said Master Dick was found in his underwear."_ _

__Bruce stood abruptly. "I should have been there. But I couldn't have been in two places. Dick should have been _here_." _ _

__"Master Bruce--"_ _

__Bruce snatched his phone back. "Both of them," he said, "I have to get to both of them."_ _

__The commotion must have woken Tim. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking between Bruce and Alfred with wide eyes, the blanket draped across his shoulders like a cloak. "What's happening?"_ _

__Bruce knelt down in front of him and kissed Tim's forehead. "Everything's going to be fine. I swear it."_ _

__"Master Bruce! Please, come sit down. I'll go," Alfred tried to pull Bruce back, but Bruce shrugged him off._ _

__"Bruce!"_ _

__"Master Bruce, where are you going?"_ _

__But Bruce couldn't stop. He ran out the front door. It was night, and it was cold. He didn't have shoes on. Bruce called Wally._ _

__"Br'ce?" Wally slurred his name. He'd been sleeping. "Wha'sit?"_ _

__"I failed," Bruce said. "Dick, it was _Dick_."_ _

__"Woah, woah, slow down man. What happened to Dick?"_ _

__"He's dead, Wally! My son is dead!"_ _

__"Shit." Wally sounded awake now. "How?"_ _

__"When Tim was abducted, I was assisting Nightwing with a drug bust. I wasn't there this time."_ _

__"God, Bruce. Fuck!" The call ended._ _

__Bruce looked at his phone. He started to redial, but a rush of wind nearly bowled him over. "Wally?"_ _

__Wally was still wearing his pajamas. He was barefoot as well, and his feet were bleeding. Wally grimaced. "They'll heal," he told Bruce. "Give it a minute."_ _

__"And then what?" Bruce asked, hoarse. He sat down heavily on the ground, a sense of numbness falling over him. "What do I do?"_ _

__"Then we try again," Wally said. His feet were healing. Bruce watched the wounds close. "We just didn't have all the information last time. We can do this."_ _

__"I should have let you patrol."_ _

__"Doesn't matter." Wally crouched down and grabbed Bruce's shoulders. "Look at me. Come on, Bruce! We can do this. We can save them _both_." He sat down on the ground with him._ _

__The grass was damp. Wally was wearing even less than Bruce. He had to be cold. But Wally didn't so much as fidget. It was the stillest Bruce had ever seen him._ _

__Wally believed in him, in the both of them. Bruce just had to hope that faith would be enough._ _

__++++_ _

__Bruce functioned better with a purpose, a task list. Going from one item to the next and then the next kept him from losing sight of the goal. In _this_ reality, Dick’s body was cooling in the morgue. In _this_ reality, Tim was crying in his room and Alfred had taken the car into the city to identify the body. Bruce didn’t need to think about that. _ _

__The goal was to get out of this hellscape. The first step was taking Wally into the cave and regrouping._ _

__“If you ask me if I’m all right one more time,” Bruce said, voice taut, and Wally cut him off, waving his hands in surrender._ _

__“Okay, okay I’ll zip it,” he said, pantomiming the motion across his mouth._ _

__Bruce barely acknowledged him. “I know where I went wrong.” He could see it clearly now. “I focused too much on a single detail. I need to look at the bigger picture.”_ _

__“And that would be?” Wally asked, hovering at his side._ _

__Bruce looked back at him, almost startled to see him still there. He needed to focus. The growing sense of panic taking root in his chest was making it difficult to shake himself free of the tunnel vision he fell so easily into. “Both Tim and Dick were active that night,” Bruce explained. “I can’t help one without leaving the other.”_ _

__Wally made a sympathetic noise. “Any idea how to handle that?”_ _

__“I have a few. Nothing concrete,” Bruce said, though that wasn’t necessarily the truth. “First, we need to get back to the correct moment.” He never thought he’d view the actual time travel as the easy part. Getting where he needed to be seemed simple in comparison to getting his hands on all the right players and keeping them safe. “There’s boots that will fit you in the lockers. Put them on and get what you need from your place. I’ll recalculate and get ready on my end. Be back in fifteen minutes.”_ _

__He heard the sound of air being displaced, a sure sign that Wally was gone. He let a moment pass, then another, then another. When the cave remained empty save for the soft rustling of the bats overhead, Bruce dropped his head into his arms on the computer console and squeezed his eyes shut._ _

__One minute, that’s all he needed. Just one minute and then he’d shake the weight off his shoulders and begin anew._ _

__++++_ _

__When Bruce arrived in the past, it was to his alarm going off at six AM. It certainly didn't feel like he'd slept, but that, at least, was a familiar sensation._ _

__The sting of failure was not._ _

__Bruce rubbed at his eyes and sat up in bed. His rumpled suit felt even less comfortable than it had when he'd fallen asleep on the couch with Tim. His feet were still bare and freezing. But Dick was alive. Tim was safe. He'd take all the discomfort in the world for that._ _

__The phone rang. He didn't look at it before picking up. "Wayne."_ _

__"Here we are again," Wally greeted him._ _

__"I need to be more proactive this time," Bruce said in lieu of a greeting. "I'm going to take you up on your offer."_ _

__"I'm glad. It's hard to be in two places at once."_ _

__He wasn't wrong. Bruce had thought all his attention needed to be on Tim, but clearly Dick needed him as well. He hadn't realized he was the only thing standing between Dick and certain death in that drug bust. Bruce couldn't afford to miss it this time around. "I have to go with Dick tonight. I want you to stay with Tim."_ _

__"Like on patrol?"_ _

__There was no way Bruce was letting Tim out. Not tonight of all nights. "No. I want you with him at the manor. As Wally."_ _

__"And how exactly are we going to explain that? Kid's a little old for a babysitter, and even if he wasn't, you've got Alfred."_ _

__"Let me worry about the logistics. Just show up. I'll even feed you."_ _

__"Can't complain about that," Wally said. "Bruce, listen…" He trailed off._ _

__Bruce waited, letting the quiet to settle between them. Wally hadn't hung up. He could hear him breathing on the other line, the faint sound of dishes clattering in the background. Making breakfast, Bruce assumed. He didn't know much about Wally's civilian life beyond the basics: address, lack of a criminal record, work history. Beyond the statistical information Bruce collected on him, Wally's day to day life was a complete blank._ _

__"Nevermind," Wally said at last around a mouthful of food. "I gotta head in to work soon. I'll see you tonight."_ _

__"Tonight," Bruce agreed, then hung up._ _

__His first instinct was to head down to the cave and look for Dick in the Bludhaven surveillance cameras he'd placed, but he had to be at work. He couldn't do a single thing differently, not until the correct moment, or he risked his plans collapsing around him. One mistake was enough._ _

__"It didn't happen," Bruce told himself aloud._ _

__"If you're done speaking to the walls, Master Bruce, please come downstairs. Breakfast is getting cold," Alfred called from the other side of the bedroom door._ _

__Bruce listened to him move down the hall toward Tim's room. Alfred didn't bother knocking on the door. Bruce heard him open it and start trying to coax Tim out of bed, a challenging feat in and of itself._ _

__After struggling through getting ready and feeling like he hadn't slept in years, Bruce trudged blearily down the stairs to the dining room where Alfred wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee. It was another five minutes before he realized something was different._ _

__"Where's Tim?" His chair was empty, and no place setting sat where it usually did. The breakfast itself was smaller than usual._ _

__"As I told you last night," Alfred said reproachfully, "Master Tim would go to school with a friend this morning. A Sebastian Ives. And I, for one, am glad to see him have some semblance of an ordinary childhood."_ _

__Bruce didn't know which part of that to address first. "A friend took him to school," he repeated. "Who drove? They're thirteen!"_ _

__Alfred did not look any more impressed with him. "Master Ives' mother. I can assure you, she is a most capable driver. Now, you're going to run late if you dawdle here any longer, Master Bruce."_ _

__Bruce dutifully ate his breakfast. Things were changing. Not a good sign, he had to assume. _Alfred_ was supposed to drive Tim to school. He _always_ drove Tim to school! And Tim never once mentioned a friend. In fact, he seemed wholly unimpressed with the entire student body at Gotham Academy. Had Bruce not listened? Maybe Tim did drive with a friend. Maybe Bruce just needed to pay better damn attention to his children.

He wiped his mouth and dropped his napkin on the plate. "I'll see you tonight, Alfred."

Alfred handed him his briefcase. "Have a good day, Master Bruce."

It wasn't a problem. It meant nothing. Bruce drove to work on autopilot, his brain supplying him with catastrophe after catastrophe, each one worse than the last. 

It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. Bruce couldn't handle it if it did.

He parked his car and went directly to his office. He needed to be ready when Dick called. That was what mattered. As long as Dick still called for help on his case, it meant the timeline wasn't irreparably altered. Bruce could still save his boys.

On the executive floor, Bruce stopped outside his office. Celia, his frighteningly efficient personal assistant, sat at her desk. "You're wearing blue," he told her.

She looked unimpressed as well. Bruce was off his game. "Is that against the dress code, Mr. Wayne?"

Well, no, obviously not, but Bruce knew for a fact she'd worn pink the last two go-rounds. He didn't acknowledge her question, disappearing into his office and closing the door behind him. 

"That's two things," he muttered. Maybe he should call Wally, but then he remembered Wally knew about as much as Bruce did about the way his time traveling abilities worked. He'd be just as in the dark.

The paperwork was the same at least, and Bruce never thought he'd be thankful to do the same work a third time. The Gotham skyline looked the same as well, a bright, nearly cloudless sky standing out against the towering buildings. Bruce looked down at the streets below and tried to remember if that fender bender had happened last time right in front of the Wayne building. Had the office across the street been empty, every window shuttered and dark?

He was panicking. Bruce could feel it. 

Settling back in his chair, he spun it back toward his desk and closed his eyes, counting his breathing and keeping it slow and even. Everything was fine. It was all fine. If Wally was experiencing the same thing, he'd have already called. Bruce had to assume this was all a product of his own anxiety, and not unreasonably. After living through Dick's death, he knew the stakes were much higher than before. It wasn't just Tim's extended torture. It was both of his boys at risk. He couldn't afford to fail.

++++

Dick’s call never came.

Bruce almost didn’t realize the designated time had come and gone. He’d been so focused on trying _not_ to focus on the situation that he lost track of the day altogether. He’d eaten in his office, intent on the reports in front of him. 

Dick hadn’t called.

Should Bruce call him? Something in the timeline had shifted. What if Dick had decided _not_ to ask for Bruce’s help? Just like Tim had decided to go to school with a friend? If things shifted too much, Bruce would lose what little control he had, control that existed solely because Bruce knew the outcome already.

Right as he caved and decided to call Dick, Celia came into his office without knocking on the door. "Mr. Wayne, stay in your office. Don't answer your phone. Mr. Fox is on his way down." Her lips trembled, and at the edges of her makeup, Bruce could see how pale she'd gone.

Bruce dropped the report he was reading. "Why? What's going on?"

She pointed a trembling finger at him. "Just don't move. Everything is going to be _fine_." She closed the door. The _click-clack_ of her heels on the floor disappeared into the elevator after a few short moments. 

Bruce sat frozen, his hands on his desk. Something was wrong. She’d told him not to answer his phone, but it wasn’t ringing. No one was trying to contact him. He pulled his cell phone from underneath a pile of papers. No messages.

Lucius stepped into the room without knocking. “We’ve got a problem.”

“I assumed as much.” Bruce gestured for Lucius to sit. He didn’t. 

“Your identity is out,” Lucius said. Sweat glistened on his forehead. With an odd sort of blankness, Bruce realized Lucius must have run to him. “I don’t know how it happened. It’s--Tim Drake is gone. Never made it to school. Pennyworth was attacked--”

“Not possible,” Bruce snapped. Tim went to school with a friend. Alfred saw him off. The school would have called if Tim didn’t show up. They had a strict attendance policy. Alfred wouldn’t--Alfred---

“He was dead on arrival, Bruce,” Lucius said, voice softening but the blow devastating all the same. “And Tim is _gone_. We need to get the bottom of this. Anything we can do to discredit this--”

Bruce fumbled for his phone. Dick was still out there. He needed to hear his son’s voice. He hit the call button.

“Bruce--”

Bruce held up a hand. He couldn’t seem to make his face do anything, form an appropriate expression, but his heart pounded, faster and faster, painful in its intensity. It was like being gassed with fear toxin for the first time. The phone rang and rang. Dick’s voicemail picked up. 

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice devoid of all feeling. “Call me when you get this.” He hung up and dropped the phone. He heard it clatter and fall off the desk. It sounded so far away.

“ _Bruce_.” Lucius’ voice dragged him back. “I know.” Lucius dropped into the chair across from Bruce and reached over, grabbing Bruce’s wrist. “I _know_. But there isn’t time to panic. We need to find the source of the leak. We need to find Tim.”

“Alfred,” Bruce said. He stopped, licked his too dry lips. “Who--how did it happen?”

“Preliminary evidence suggests the Joker,” Lucius admitted. 

The Joker. It was _always_ the Joker. 

"GCPD is sending a car," Lucius continued. "You need to be gone before they arrive. I'll head up damage control from here. You seek out the source and find your kids." He stood and reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them to Bruce. "That's for Tiffany's car," he said. "Little gray Honda. She parks next to me. Her badge is in the glove compartment."

Bruce forced himself to move. He had a mission now. It was always easier to keep pushing forward with a mission. He left Lucius in his office and stepped into the elevator, punching in the override access code, allowing him to go straight to the parking deck level without stopping.

He found Tiffany's car and used her badge to get out of the parking deck, turning opposite the way he normally would. A squad car passed him as he headed toward the bridge. He put his ear piece in. "Call Wally West." His phone chimed, then began ringing.

Wally picked up after the third ring. "Hello?"

"We have a problem."

"Yeah, I noticed," Wally groaned. "The timeline, it's shifting. Again! The crime scene I processed this morning was completely different!"

"Worse," Bruce said. "Tim is gone. I can't get in touch with Dick. My identity has been released--"

"Jesus, Bruce, what have you been doing?"

"Sitting in my office. The same as last time and the time before that. Nothing should have changed." He beat the wheel with his fist. "I don't understand. I did everything right!"

Wally kept quiet for a beat. Then, "You said your identity is compromised?"

"I'm not sure how bad it is. There was no warning. Alfred--" He swallowed. "Alfred is dead. Joker thugs." 

"Okay," Wally said. He blew out a long breath. " _Okay_. That's--that's a lot."

"The police are looking for me. There's not much time. I'm heading for the docks. Meet me there. We have to try again." The docks were probably the least opportune place for the run back in time, but Bruce had to prioritize: first get away from the police, _then_ travel back in time.

Wally still hadn’t responded. In fact, the other line had gone silent. The ambient noise from before was gone. Had he hung up?

“Wally?”

“I’m here,” Wally said. “I just--don’t you think we’re going about this the wrong way?”

“What other way is there?” Bruce didn’t leave room for a response. “The docks, Wally. See you in ten.”

“Wait--”

But Bruce didn’t wait. He hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket. The docks were mostly abandoned warehouses. The few occupied spaces were clustered toward the loading zones on the Gotham Harbor. As long as Bruce stuck to the far side of the complex, no one would look twice. People on that end of the city knew better than to stick their noses where they didn’t belong. 

How could Wally think they were _wrong_? It was far too late to doubt the plan. What could be more important than keeping his family safe? But at the same time, Bruce couldn’t argue against the facts as they stood before him. Twice now, he’d failed. He’d saved Tim and lost Dick. Now, the second time around, he’d lost Alfred, Tim, _and_ potentially Dick, and he’d blown his secret identity wide open. He’d changed _nothing_. Bruce had followed his actions just as he’d done the first time, but the timeline hadn’t stayed on the course. Things had changed around him, as if trying to course correct to the very ending he sought to avoid. 

It hit him: avoiding. That’s what he was trying to do. _Avoid_ a certain outcome. 

The wheels began to spin. Clearly, avoiding the issue wasn’t enough. He’d been looking at the situation from the wrong angle. Bruce cursed himself. How could he have been so blind?

He ditched the car and walked quickly. He took a photo of the broken down building before he took shelter inside and sent it to Wally. Within moments, he felt the air displacement next to him as Wally appeared seemingly out of thin air. 

“You have a plan,” was the only greeting Wally offered. It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe you were right,” Bruce began. Wally’s face lost its flat expression as he perked up. Bruce continued, “Maybe we _were_ going about this the wrong way. I was so focused on defending that it never occurred to me that the best option might be a proactive one.”

Wally wilted. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

But Bruce hardly paid any attention to Wally's concern. Wally, who had time traveled already. Wally, who had saved Bruce’s life without the timeline taking a turn for the worse. Wally hadn’t moved Bruce out of the way. No, Wally, whether intentionally or not, had taken the _source_ of Bruce’s demise completely out of the equation. “We need to get somewhere outside of Gotham. There’s too many people looking for me. Then we need to go back.”

Wally let out a frustrated sound. “Bruce, man, _look_ \--”

Bruce whirled on him, grabbing Wally by the shirt and slamming him up against the wall. “There’s no time! Just get us somewhere!” Something in Bruce, some worn and frayed thread, went taut and snapped. He forced himself to relax his grip. His head went quiet, a cold decisiveness slithering into place. “Wally,” he tried. “ _Please_.”

Wally panted, his gaze dropping somewhere to the left of Bruce. His face lost its usual color, a grayish hue in its place. “This has to be the last time,” he said. “I think--” He shook his head. “We have to make this work.”

Bruce didn’t know who Wally was trying to convince. He already knew how precarious their position was. 

“We won’t fail,” Bruce promised, letting Wally go and putting some distance between them. “ _I_ won’t fail.”

And he wouldn’t. The decision was made. Bruce knew it, could feel it with the same certainty he had when he first put on the mask. There would be no going back. Not this time.

++++

Wally fell into his body with a dizzying speed, and after a beat, the world around him caught up.

The fluorescent lighting in the lab cast an unhealthy color over the technicians working around him. Wally set down the evidence bag he had in his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the lab was still there. He didn’t go back far enough.

According to the clock, it was 7:45am. He hadn’t been at the station for an hour yet. But Tim, if what Bruce said was true, was already gone. 

He left the lab and went to the designated smoking area out the side exit. It was still early enough that no one was on break, though the acrid scent of smoke lingered in the air. Wally called Bruce. The phone rang once, then half a ring later, it went to voicemail.

“Well,” Wally said, staring blankly at the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

Okay, no reason to panic. Sure, Bruce declined his call, but there could be a million different reasons for that. Maybe he was already at work and sitting in a meeting. Maybe he was in traffic. Gotham was a hands-free driving city, wasn’t it? Maybe Bruce was on another call. There was _nothing_ to panic about.

Unless Bruce was ignoring his calls.

But no, there's no way that's what's happening. Bruce couldn't see this through without Wally. They had to lean on each other, if only a little. Not even Bruce could argue against that.

He hit the call button again. This time it didn't even ring. Straight to voicemail.

"Well," Wally said. "Shit."

He needed to get to Gotham. Bruce hadn't exactly been in a sharing mood when Wally picked him up, but all that talk about being proactive didn’t jive well with Wally. Neither did the look on Bruce’s face. Bruce might not have been the most expressive guy, but Wally never thought of him as unfeeling. If anything, he’d say Bruce felt too much. But the Bruce he’d found by Gotham Harbor was about as emotive as a block of ice.

Something was wrong. Wally didn’t like it, didn’t really even want to believe it, but his gut instinct was usually right. Something was very wrong, and Bruce was smack dab in the center of it. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn’t call the League, come clean. He didn’t like withholding information from his friends, and the fact that Bruce had schmoozed him into breaking a promise he’d made only the day before still didn’t sit right with Wally. If he got the League involved, they could probably fix this. Together, Wally didn’t think there was anything they couldn’t do.

But at the same time, this was Bruce. And not just Bruce--Bruce’s _kids_. He’d practically gotten on his knees and begged Wally for help. Bruce didn’t ask for help. Just didn’t. But this time, he’d asked Wally. No one _ever_ asked just Wally for help. But Bruce did. So Wally should do the right thing, see it through. 

Make sure Bruce didn’t irrevocably fuck up the timestream. 

Work would have to wait. Wally knew he was already on thin ice for the number of absences he had, not to mention all those middle of the day disappearances, but he didn’t have time to worry about whether he’d still be gainfully employed in the morning. He ran out of the station and ducked into an alley to spring the suit from his ring and change into it. Then he wasted no time in running to Gotham. 

He made it to the edge of the city and kept going, his feet carrying him all the way to Wayne Manor. If he was lucky, Bruce would still be there. Hell, if he was _really_ lucky, he’d walk in on Alfred serving Tim and Bruce breakfast.

Not that Wally was holding his breath or anything.

But Alfred _did_ answer the door. Wally could mark one off the list. 

“Master Wallace,” Alfred greeted him. “Do come in.” Not even a comment about wearing the suit to the manor in broad daylight? Wally shuffled in behind Alfred, letting him close the door before asking after Bruce. But before he could get his mouth open to form the words, Alfred cut him off. “I’m certainly glad you’re here. Although I admit, I was expecting Superman.”

“You were?” Wally pushed his cowl back, grimacing at the feel of his sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. “And that would be because…”

“I’m concerned,” Alfred said, “about Master Bruce.” Because of _course_ he was. 

“Yeah, me too,” Wally said. “Think we could compare notes?”

Alfred just sort of squinted his eyes at Wally, like he wasn’t convinced Wally was going to be especially helpful, but evidently Alfred knew his options were limited because he just sighed. “He was...frantic this morning. He insisted I take Master Tim and barricade the both of us into the panic room in the cave. Master Tim was most upset.”

“Tim’s here?” Wally asked. “Where?” So the timeline shifted back? What made it change in the first place? The more Wally tried to figure out what the hell was going on, the less he felt like he knew.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. Right. The cave. “Master Bruce insisted. I was preparing to call the WatchTower when you triggered the proximity alarm.”

Of course there was a proximity alarm. Why was Wally surprised? “Did he say why he wanted you guys in the panic room? Or where he was going?” 

But Alfred just shook his head. “He barely said a word before rushing out. He seemed very determined.”

“What about Dick?” Wally asked. “Is he here?”

“No, Master Dick hasn’t lived at the manor for several years now,” Alfred said, baffled. “He lives and works in Bludhaven. Whatever would he be doing here on a weekday morning?”

There, that had to be it. Apparently Bruce’s idea of proactive was forcing his entire family into his bat-bunker and keeping them safe at all cost. Wally couldn’t fault his thinking, though his execution left a lot to be desired. “Okay, that’s good,” he said, pushing his cowl back into place. “I can work with that. Where does Dick live? Would he even be home right now?”

“I--” Alfred was frowning at him. “You sound like you know what he’s thinking.”

“I have a good guess,” Wally said. “But seriously, right now Dick would be…?”

“He works for the Bludhaven police. He should be on shift right now,” Alfred said. “But if it helps, I can give you his address.”

“Please,” Wally said. “And, about the League, maybe keep this one quiet. I think it’s better if they don’t know what Bruce is up to.”

At that, Alfred went very still. “And you believe you have Master Bruce’s best interests in mind.”

“I would never hurt him, Alfred,” Wally said, trying to inject as much sincerity into his voice as he could manage. “Believe me. He’s...kind of stressed right now. But everything’s going to be okay! Seriously, you guys just hunker down, stick to the cave. I’ll have Bruce back in a flash.” 

Alfred didn’t react to the pun, much to Wally’s disappointment. “Bring him back, Master Wallace,” was all he had to say before handing Wally a slip of paper with a Bludhaven apartment’s address on it. “Both of them, if you would.”

Wally gave him a thumbs up and took off running, phasing through the door and heading toward Bludhaven.

Dick’s apartment was empty, but Wally didn’t let it bother him. If what Alfred said was true, Dick was probably at work. More worrying was that there was also no sign of Bruce at Dick’s apartment. He’d kind of figured he’d walk in and Bruce would be in his suit, lurking in the kitchen. That would have been the best case scenario. But there was no Bruce.

So where was he?

Wally knew next to nothing about Dick. He’d seen photos, but he wasn’t convinced he could pick Dick out of a line-up. Try as he might, all Wally could remember was that he was tall, with darker skin and black hair. Ridiculously good-looking was what he’d thought the first time he saw a current photo of Dick. Apparently not good-looking enough to remember, though.

“Okay,” Wally said, running up and down the streets of Bludhaven, “look for a hot cop. This can’t be that hard.”

It was broad daylight! Yet there he was, peeking into every squad car he passed, just as lost as he was the first time he’d set foot in Bludhaven. Had Bruce already found Dick? Maybe they were already back at the manor, laughing about how Wally was running around the city like a lunatic. 

Somehow he didn’t think he was so lucky.

Again, he thought of calling the League. J’onn could find Bruce in two seconds flat--but he could also suss out the whole sorry story just as fast. The longer Wally waited to call them in, the deeper he knew he and Bruce were digging themselves. Wally just couldn’t do it.

He finally caught a lucky break when he stopped to think by the last car on the street. One of the officers was just stepping out, shouting into her radio. “I don’t _care_ if he disappears all the time,” she was saying, “this is _different_. Grayson was standing right next to me, then he was just gone!”

Grayson--Dick Grayson, Wally remembered. That was his name. He moved closer to the officer. Her uniform said _Rohrbach_. 

When the officer slammed her radio against the side of the car, biting out a curse, Wally stepped forward. “Officer, mind if I ask you a question?”

Her head shot up. “The Flash? What are you doing in Bludhaven?”

“Long story,” Wally said with a nervous laugh. “But I’m doing a favor for the Bat. I couldn’t help but overhear,” he nodded at her radio. “Your partner disappeared?”

Rohrbach narrowed her eyes at him. But then she blew out a breath, resigned. “He’s a rookie,” she said, “still pretty new to the force. But a solid guy. He wouldn’t run off. Something happened.”

“Where were you when it happened?”

She gestured down the road. “We were walking back to the car, right at the crosswalk,” she said. “We’d been investigating a disturbance that turned out to be nothing. I put the all-clear out on the radio. When I was done, I looked back and he was gone. Didn’t make a sound.”

Pretty typical behavior for a Bat, but everything he’d ever heard about Nightwing made Wally think Dick wasn’t the type of guy to ditch his day job like that. “And there was nothing suspicious? No signs of--”

“You think I wouldn’t have reported that?” Rohrbach asked. “Look, I don’t know what happened to him. But he’s gone.” 

A sense of unease prickled the back of Wally's neck. Dick was gone. Bruce was who knew where. If Wally couldn't find Dick…

"I'll keep an eye out for your partner," Wally said. "Do you have a picture?"

"Better," Rohrbach said. She opened the car door and reached in. "Grayson always leaves his wallet in the car. No matter how many times I told him not to." She tossed it over the top of the car, and Wally caught it. "His license is in there and a family photo. Looks pretty recent."

Wally opened it up and pulled out the photo from where it was tucked between a ten and a coupon for ground beef. The photo _was_ recent, going by Bruce and Tim. Even Alfred was in it. Dick stood between Bruce and Alfred, his hands on Tim's shoulders. He looked happy. Wally tucked the photo away again and pocketed the wallet. "I'll find your partner, officer."

She smiled at him, a worn and tired look, and climbed back into her squad car. Wally watched her drive down the road and disappear at the next right. He worried his lip, trying to think.

Dick went missing somewhere between where he stood and the end of the block. No one saw anything. His partner didn't even notice. Was the Joker that stealthy? Wally wracked his brain for what he knew of the clown, but it basically amounted to _clown psychopath, tortures children, avoid at all costs_.

Zipping up to a nearby roof, Wally pulled out his phone and called Bruce. Again, his call went straight to voicemail. Next he called Alfred, who provided him with Dick's number. It also went straight to voicemail.

"This would be so much easier with the League," Wally muttered, tucking his phone away again. Were they wondering where Bruce was? Where Wally was? Unlikely. As much time as it seemed like had passed since Wally last saw his friends, in reality it had been barely a day in their eyes. 

"Okay, time to look at this from a different angle," Wally said. If he can't find Bruce and Dick, then the next involved person down the list would be the Joker himself. Therefore, he should find the Joker.

Wally didn't like it, but his alternatives were nonexistent. Another phone call to Alfred got him a list of known hangouts and associates. Alfred's tolerance of the situation and willingness to help spoke of how worried he was. Wally couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened when Bruce arrived in the past.

He ran back to Gotham and sped through the list of places, each as empty as the list. But something would give eventually, of that Wally had no doubt.

And eventually something did give.

Wally zipped through the streets surrounding Robinson Park before darting into the park itself. He'd been warned by Alfred to avoid the park, citing Poison Ivy's presence as a deterrent. She didn't tolerate the Joker in her territory. But according to the list he'd gotten on his run through Arkham, Ivy was still doing time. 

He came to a stop just inside the park and nearly slid and fell on his ass on the wet ground. Wally tried to wipe his boots free of the water, but the red smears they left behind stopped him cold.

Blood. Just _great_.

"Doesn't mean anything," Wally muttered to himself, eyeing the trail that disappeared into a thicket of trees and vines, winding so high above his head it blocked out the sun. "Could be an animal. Or, like, paint. Graffiti!"

In the distance, he heard a faint cry, a thud. Then silence.

Wally's stomach turned as he pushed through, following the trail. It led to a clearing where a gazebo stood, vines creeping up the sides of it, covering the aged and splintering wood. 

There was a body in the gazebo.

Wally knew it all along. He just hadn't wanted to admit it. He'd known the moment Bruce demanded they go back again. "Shit. _Shit_."

A police uniform. Black hair. He could see _Grayson_ stitched onto the shirt, or what was left of it. The face had been mutilated. Wally's stomach turned again, acid racing up his throat. He gagged, stumbling back, but he managed to steady himself, swallowing against the reflex.

Dick Grayson was dead. There wasn't much left of him. Wally hoped the damage was post-mortem. 

Shouting carried through the park again. Wally ran toward it, trying to chase down the source. Anywhere was better than by the gazebo.

[He burst through the other side of the park and phased through the wrought iron fence into what looked like a shopping area](https://babbilon.tumblr.com/post/630618178255536128/heres-one-of-my-contributions-to), quaint boutiques and bistros lining the streets. A crowd had gathered around the crosswalk. Wally could see cameras flashing. People were screaming.

Batman was beating the Joker in the street, half collapsed over his body. His fist kept rearing back, slamming into the Joker's face which more resembled ground meat than skin. 

More flashes went off. The crowd grew larger. Wally watched, growing numb with horror. The Joker wasn't moving. He was just lying there, bleeding. Wally couldn’t seem to get his mind to connect that it was _Bruce_ who did that. Had that been the plan all along? The thought that Bruce deciding to be proactive meant murdering the Joker never even crossed Wally’s mind.

Wally forced his legs to work. He ran up to Bruce and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him off. "Bats, come on, he's done! You've got to stop!" Bruce could still come back from this. He could still walk away. Bruce _had_ to walk away.

There were _so many people_. The League had to know about this. Wally was just waiting for Clark to realize something was going on, for the boom of the sound barrier breaking to announce Superman's impending arrival. He had to get Bruce out of here before Clark appeared.

But Bruce didn't budge. He dove back at the Joker, got his hands around his throat. He squeezed so hard blood bubbled out of the Joker's mouth. But the Joker wasn't breathing, Wally realized. He'd probably been dead for a while. 

Bruce wouldn’t be walking away from this one.

Wally stumbled back. "Bats," he whispered, "what did you _do_?"

"What I should have done the first time," Bruce said, his voice eerily level. He dropped the Joker's corpse. "You showed me. The first time. When you killed the man who shot me. Nothing went wrong, Wally. You showed me that."

At first, Wally didn't know what he meant. He just couldn't process what Bruce said. 

The first time. When Wally saved Bruce, when he'd traveled back those few seconds. Wally choked back a laugh. "You call this nothing wrong?" 

"One more time," Bruce demanded. "Take me back. I know what to do." The Joker's broken body laid at his feet. "Further than this time. I need to go straight to him."

"Batman doesn't kill. Are you listening to yourself?" This was all wrong. Batman didn't act like that, didn't kill, didn't lash out preemptively. Wally idolized Batman. The man standing in front of him? That wasn't Batman.

"Again," Bruce demanded. 

In the distance, Wally heard Superman take off, the blast of pressure and noise as he shattered the sound barrier. Wally looked down the street beyond Bruce, the crush of cars and the people. He thought of Tim and Alfred hiding in the manor, of Dick's broken body, of Office Rohrbach's worried face. 

Something in him nudged at him, flushing strength to his legs. _Run_ , it seemed to say, that same presence that pushed him to save Bruce the first time. The speed force curled in him, tight like a coil, and pushed Wally, guiding him without words just as it had before. He didn’t question it, just as he hadn’t hesitated when it led him to save Bruce. Wally could still fix this. 

Wally met the blank gaze of Bruce's cowl and shook his head. Then he turned and ran.

++++

Bruce was suiting up when his phone rang. 

"It says Wally," Tim announced from across the cave. "Who's Wally?"

Bruce strode across the cave and grabbed his phone, accepting the call. "What's the situation?" The Flash didn't call him. He had Bruce's number, certainly, but he'd never once used it.

"Nothing, no situation," Wally said, but there was something frantic in his voice. 

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Bruce asked Tim, watching the boy with a pointed look until he huffed and ran off to the locker room. "If it's nothing," Bruce said, returning his attention to Flash, "then why are you calling? I didn't give you this number for social calls."

"Yeah," Flash said. "Just, you know, wondering what you're up to tonight. Any big plans?" He couldn't have sounded more suspicious if he tried.

Bruce sighed. He had to remember how young Wally was. And unlike Dick, Wally didn't have anyone to fall back on. Bruce thought of his own bad days, those times when he was barely hanging on, too wrapped up in grief to cope. He'd have been lost years ago without Dick and Alfred, and now Tim. "I'm assisting Nightwing with a case tonight. If you need backup, I suggest Lantern."

"No, I'm not going out tonight," Wally said. "What about, um, Robin?"

Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Flash was even worse at small talk than J'onn. "Robin is more than capable of handling himself alone, Flash."

"Right, right." Flash sounded almost breathless. "No, I knew that."

Bruce's frowned deepened. "Flash--"

"Sorry, no, I know, I was just--" He laughed, a choked off sound, wet. "I had a bad dream," he said at last. "You were just the first name that came to mind."

"You'll be fine," Bruce said, stilted. He'd have to suggest someone check on Flash. The kid was clearly not coping well. 

"I’m sorry," Flash said, apropos nothing. "Bye, Bats."

Puzzled, Bruce said goodbye and hung up. 

"What did he want?" Tim was suited up, securing his utility belt.

"Nothing. He was just," Bruce searched for a word, "checking in. But never mind that. You remember your route? I’ll be with Nightwing for the drug bust, but if you need anything--"

" _Yes_ , mom," Tim groaned. "I've got this, B! I told you."

Bruce squeezed Tim's shoulder. "I know you do," he said. And he did know. Tim was a natural. "I'll check in with you after the raid. Dick said he'll come back with me, stay the weekend."

"Yes!" Tim pumped his fist in the air. "Movie night! I call first choice!"

"Beat us back and we'll see," Bruce allowed. 

Tim scampered off toward the Redbird, sitting astride it and saluting Bruce before taking off into the night.

He’d calculated the route Robin would take through the city to avoid any of the heavy hitters. Tim would be back in no time. And between Bruce and Dick, the drug ring would collapse like a house of cards. He finished suiting up and checking his supplies before climbing into the Batmobile.

An easy night, Bruce decided, and a weekend with his boys. What could be better?


End file.
